There You'll Be
by Evantis
Summary: One night out of many. Light VergilxDante, Drabble


There You'll Be

Rated: K

By: Evantis

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I don't know much about _Devil May Cry_. I've only watched half the anime so far, and read the first volume of the manga. So please excuse me if I make any mistakes relating to the characters and the story.

I haven't posted anything in a wall due to an overload of homework and study. But I've been slowly working on a Kingdom Hearts fic, that should be ready soon…hopefully. O.O

A random drabble, not very well done. Feels rushed. Please enjoy it all the same, and leave your comments.

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He wants to turn around, and know everything is all right.

He wants to turn around, and see his parents again.

He wants to turn around, and see his brother.

But a small part of his heart tells him constantly about how bleak his future is, how unfeasible his hopes are, and how he will never find happiness. Sometimes he sits at his desk in his usual unmannerly way, and contemplates what to do with his life. He doesn't hate his life, doesn't hate his job, and doesn't hate his debts – they've all become part of the background now. He deals with them like he deals with pests. But he cannot stand the monotony, the melancholy that holds his life in an insidious embrace. He cannot stand the solitude, though he'll never admit that.

He wants to step out of his shop, and see his family standing there.

He wants to hear the door open, and see Vergil walk in.

He doesn't want to open his eyes to Trish and Lady, he doesn't want to even glance at Patty and Enzo.

It is the same tonight. He slouches in his chair, legs propped on his desk. His mother's photo sits on his desk, her eyes gazing lovingly at him. He isn't looking at her – he has covered his face with a tattered magazine. The shop is quiet, with no music roaring, because he wants silence for tonight.

He isn't sleeping. No, he has problems sleeping these days. When he sleeps, he falls prey to bloody, vicious nightmares. When he's awake, he can partially suppress that fear.

The wind blows strong, chilly gusts against his door, rattling it so much till it sounds almost as if someone is trying to get in. If only there is really someone trying to enter.

If only there is someone to dispel the silence.

If only there is someone to clear away the misery.

If only there is someone to make him smile again.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams of his parents. He dreams of his mother's tinkling laughter, and his father's dignified gait. Then he dreams of his twin brother, Vergil – stocky and handsome, laughing and yelling as he amused his younger brother without any sign of reluctance or boredom.

He feels Vergil's hand around his own, clasping the smaller hand tightly. He looks up, and sees Vergil's kind, smiling face. The face of his brother before he fell victim to insanity. He dreams of Vergil putting slender arms around him, and hugging him affectionately, pulling him closer and closer. He dreams of warm fingers entangled in his hair, gentle breath tickling his neck. He dreams of hugging back just as firmly, pressing his forehead into Vergil's shoulder, slumping most of his weight against his brother – a body so familiar to him, so similar to his own.

He was so tired.

When he wakes up again, he feels so empty that it almost hurts – a cutting pain to his heart. The warmth and brief delight has vanished, and feel of another's hand, hot against his skin, disappears. He doesn't remember laughter anymore.

He feels so alone.

He sits upright in his dark, lonely shop and for that particular fleeting moment, he feels like a child again. A lost child searching for his parents.

And so he sits very still, breathing only very slightly.

Darkness overtakes his vision again. He feels warm breath on his neck for a second time, strong arms around his shoulders. He can feel Vergil holding his hand again – the heat a comfort he relished in as much as he could.

By now, he cannot tell what is a dream, what is reality.

When Vergil's presence disappears, and the office becomes quiet and gloomy again, the temperature seemingly drops a few degrees. Nothing can stop that heavy, crushing feeling that makes him more fatigued than ever.

He stares at his empty hand, and presses it close against his chest. He pushes himself onto the floor and against the wall, bringing his knees close against his body. The loneliness is killing him slowly.

It is there and then that he lets his defences crumble, and his tears flow.


End file.
